A Deal With the Devil Read online

  Jake’s vehicle was wedged in the ditch, but the driver’s door looked accessible. Amanda struggled through knee-deep snow drifts, falling twice as she made her way over the uneven terrain. As she got to the driver’s side door, she paused for a moment and took a deep breath as she mentally prepared for the worst. Then she grabbed the door handle and yanked it open, stepping onto the running board and hoisting herself up so she could see inside.

  Jake sat in the driver’s seat, holding his left temple as he tried to restart the engine.

  “Are you okay? What’s wrong with your head?” Her eyes scanned his face and then the cab. She couldn’t see any broken glass. No blood. All good signs.

  “It smacked against the window.” He stopped fiddling with the keys and leaned back in the seat, fixing her with his killer blue eyes. “I need to get out of this ditch.”

  I need you to stop looking at me like that.

  Amanda swallowed hard and looked away, trying to sound cold and pragmatic as she said, “I’ve got news for you. You’re stuck.” She turned and glanced at the driver’s side window. It wasn’t cracked, but she supposed he could have a mild concussion. “Let me see.” She took hold of his sleeve and pulled his hand away. Then she reached out and touched the skin above his left temple, which felt like a tiny zap of electricity. She yanked her hand back and leaned forward to visually inspect the area. Then she cleared her throat and said, “It’s a little red. You’ll probably get a bruise. What happened?”

  “You’re kidding, right? You saw that branch. I almost flipped over.”

  “That’s a tad dramatic, don’t you think?” She arched a brow and tried to squelch an illogical, but nearly uncontrollable, urge to giggle. “It wasn’t that big a deal. I just zipped by it.” She couldn’t resist the exaggeration—especially since he fancied himself the fount of all knowledge on safe winter driving.

  “Yeah, I noticed,” he said, his voice sounding flat. “Your zipping ran me off the road.”

  Of course he’d blame her.

  She didn’t bother to hide her amusement as she said, “Maybe you should’ve followed your own safe winter driving tips. Personally, I found them very helpful.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You think this is funny?”

  She shook her head and pulled her lips inward to stifle a giggle as she said, “Of course it’s not funny.” Hysterical might be a better description—especially with the wounded-pride expression on his face. Plus, she loved to be the one rescuing Mr. Tough Guy from the ditch.

  He glared at her. “I slammed on my brakes and nearly flipped over trying to avoid that branch and then had to do it all over again to dodge you.”

  “We both did, but only one of us ended up in the ditch. Maybe you shouldn’t have been driving so fast. If I recall correctly ‘slow and steady’ was safe snow driving rule number two.” Amanda hopped down and grinned up at him. “Just sayin.”

  He glowered at her as he unbuckled the seat belt and dropped to the ground. He shut and locked the door and they tramped across the road. He cast a last regretful glance at his wounded Escalade. “I hope my truck is okay. I literally just drove the damned thing off the lot on my way up here.”

  When they got close, Jake headed toward the driver’s side door.

  She grabbed his sleeve and shook her head. “Whoa there, big fella. This is my car and I’ll do the driving, thank you very much.” She stole a peek at him as he stomped around the back of the car and slid in beside her. From the set of his jaw, he didn’t look pleased. Too bad. Her car was sort of new too and no one but her would be putting it in the ditch.

  “Should we keep going or head back to the cabin?” Amanda cast a sideways glance at Jake as she switched off the hazard lights. “I can’t decide.” She really didn’t want to go back to the cabin, but she feared what they might encounter down the road if they kept going.

  “We need to head back to the cabin,” Jake said, his tone making it clear he’d broach no arguments. “There’s nothing to speak of between here and Chicago and we can’t risk running into more trouble.”

  More trouble. Like that was even possible. Her blissful weekend of solitude was not off to a good start. So far, it was decidedly short on bliss and could no longer be considered solitary.

  They were quiet on the drive back and Amanda’s mood grew as black as the moonless night. She poked along at a snail’s pace, which caused their return trip to take nearly an hour. The silence was broken only by Jake’s occasional sighs, which she guessed to be related to her driving skills.

  Despite his apparent disapproval, at least she hadn’t put them in the ditch, which she would’ve pointed out had he dared to challenge her. He didn’t.

  When they arrived, Jake carried her bags back into the cabin and built a fire. Then he sacked out on the couch, watching sports highlights. He held a bag of frozen peas to his left temple, which now sported a large purplish red knot similar to the one she might have inflicted had she whacked him with the blow dryer as she’d been dying to do earlier.

  She glanced at him surreptitiously and stifled a giggle. You can’t outrun karma, big boy. Clearly the universe agreed with her. Jake deserved to be punished.

  Amanda allowed herself to feel a small measure of satisfaction as she sidled up to the fire, rubbing her palms together and working on her attitude. She felt cursed. Aside from Jake’s bump on the head, which she considered a mark in her column, the fates appeared to be conspiring against her. There could be no other explanation for her recent run of bad luck. She’d just wanted a weekend alone. Had that really been asking too much?

  She peered over her shoulder. He looked ridiculous holding that bag of frozen peas against his head. If she hadn’t been in such a foul mood, she would’ve been tempted to sneak a quick pic with her cell phone. The Facebook posting and resulting comments from her girlfriends would have been priceless.

  Amanda turned back to the fire. A year ago, she would have considered being snowbound with Jake to be pure heaven, but given the brutal finality of their break-up, this situation had disaster written all over it. She watched the flames lick greedily at the dry kindling. After he’d dumped her, she’d vowed to avoid him at all costs. That had been pretty easy to do while he served in Iraq. Not so easy now. The cabin only consisted of four rooms.

  Her stomach grumbled—a not-so-subtle reminder she hadn’t eaten since noon—so she headed to the kitchen in search of food. She peered into the freezer, moving items around until she found two steaks and some frozen asparagus. Coupled with the bottle of Shiraz she’d brought, her find should make for a very nice dinner.

  Forty five minutes later, she loaded two plates and carried them to the living room, returning a few moments later with the wine.

  “Thanks,” Jake said, gazing up at her in surprise. “I figured I’d have to fend for myself.”

  She shrugged and gestured to the bag pressed against his temple. “I thought you might like a steak with those peas.”

  “Hilarious.” He set the vegetables on the table and eyed the steak with lust. “Have we declared a truce?”

  “Let’s not get carried away.” She poured the wine and handed him a glass. “I considered tossing this at you, but it would be a shame to waste such a good bottle of wine.”

  He grinned. “Given your attitude the last couple of hours, you seemed more likely to stab me with this fork than to cook me a steak.” Jake waved the fork, then picked up his knife and dove into the meal with gusto.

  She sipped at her wine and watched him devour his food. Her appetite had vanished and she planned to drink dinner. She couldn’t believe just three hours had passed since he’d sauntered into the bathroom. Earlier, she’d fantasized about shoving him out the door and dead-bolting it behind him. But since they were stranded together, she figured she should at least try to get along. She drew a long, fortifying breath and tried to convince herself he wasn’t really the devil. It just seemed so—especially when women, commitment or feelings were involved.

  “How long are you in town?” She sipped her wine. Hopefully not long.

  “I got out.” He shot her a quick sideways glance and then looked away, taking a big swig of wine.

  Her mouth dropped open as his words slapped her across the face. But she recovered quickly, fixing her features into a cool façade and tapping a fingernail on her wine glass.

  So . . . he’d followed through with their plan. He’d left the Navy and had returned to Chicago for good. Oh well. What did she care? Granted, she’d assumed he’d chuck their idea just as he had their relationship, but apparently she’d been wrong about everything concerning Jake Lowell.

  “Interesting,” she said, keeping her tone as nonchalant as she could manage. She didn’t want him to assume his decision to follow-thru with their plan bothered her. “How does it feel?” As her dreams of a happily-ever-after as Mrs. Jake Lowell flashed back, she knew how she felt. Miserable.

  Her eyes zeroed in on the tanned, muscular forearm protruding from the rolled up sleeve of his white button down. Maybe she should jab him with the fork—just enough to draw a little blood. She could patch him up afterward. Surely Kate kept a first aid kit somewhere in the place. She eyed her fork and her lips curved up, but she restrained herself and instead, took another sip of wine.

  “I can’t tell yet. It’s still too new.” He shrugged. “I’m excited about my plans, but you know how it is between my grandfather and me.” He grimaced and then popped a bite of steak in his mouth.

  “I’m sure it’ll be better between you two now that you’re out.”

  He scoffed. “Right. Clearly you don’t know him well.”

  “He just wants you to be happy. I don’t know why you can’t see the truth.” She tried to figure out why she always jumped to def
end Jake’s grandfather. The problem between the two men had nothing to do with her and yet, she could never resist.

  Jake shook his head. “I do. Max wants to control me, just like he controlled my father.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Believe whatever you want,” he said. “It’s true. I’ve only been back a few days and he’s already up to his old tricks, but this new twist takes his game to a whole new level.” She thought she detected a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. “And I’ve got to figure out a way to outsmart him.” Jake took a swig of wine. “He’s trying to blackmail me into marry . . .”

  Amanda stopped paying attention, too busy contemplating Jake’s messed up relationship with his grandfather. She didn’t approve of the way he dealt with Max and they’d battled endlessly on the subject while together. Granted, his family situation wasn’t perfect, but whose was? Her situation with her brother was totally whacked out right now and yes, he royally pissed her off on occasion. But she refused to let money problems or the irresponsible phase Rob seemed stuck in, to ruin their relationship. In her view, Jake should be grateful he still had Max—especially since he’d already lost both parents.

  Amanda looked up and noticed Jake staring.

  She picked up a napkin. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

  He opened his mouth and then twisted it into a wry grin as he shook his head and swallowed a generous amount of wine, nearly draining the glass.

  She frowned as he continued to stare. “Tell me.” She kept the napkin poised at her mouth and waited for him to respond.

  He laughed and set his glass on the table. “No, no…I just—” He shook his head again and then picked up his silverware and cut another bite of steak. “Never mind.”

  She dropped the napkin and eyed him with suspicion, suspecting she might need the strength of alcohol when he replied. “Tell me,” she said. Then she took a nice long sip, swishing the wine around in her mouth as she’d learned to do on a recent business trip to Napa.

  “Okay.” Jake set down his silverware with deliberation, one piece at a time, and then leaned back in his chair. His blue eyes locked with hers and he paused for a long moment and then said, “We should get married.”

  Chapter Three

  ake uttered his on-the-fly proposal at the precise moment Amanda swallowed. She only got part of the wine down. The rest she spat out.

  He watched as she grabbed a napkin and held it to her mouth, her eyes watering as quick gulps of air interspersed with deep, rattling coughs. “You okay?” He stood next to her, looking down with concern.

  She shook her head and kept coughing.

  “Excited about the prospect of marrying me, huh?” Jake smacked her gently on the back with his palm.

  “It went down the wrong pipe,” she said, her voice a raspy croak. “Water.”

  Jake trotted into the kitchen, filled a glass with water and set it on the table in front of her. She coughed and reached for the water while he settled on the stone hearth. As she sipped at the water, he tried to figure out what had compelled him blurt out a half-baked idea before he’d even begun to think it through.

  Jake tapped a thumb on his thigh and wished he could jump in his Escalade and drive until he found himself a few thousand miles away. Unfortunately, with his SUV nose down in a ditch, he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  He rested his head against the stone fireplace and gazed up at the ceiling. No matter the situation, he never blinked under pressure. So what the hell was his problem? Granted, he’d been shocked when the family attorney called on his way up here to tell him about the change to his trust fund. But it still didn’t excuse his behavior. Iraq must’ve been harder on him than he’d imagined.

  On paper, Amanda might seem a perfect solution for a fake engagement scheme. It’s not like there would be any messy emotional complications because in the past few hours, she’d made it crystal clear she was over him. Still, actual experience told him anything involving the two of them would likely be difficult, impossible—maybe even disastrous. He had concluded this a year ago, which had been a key driver behind the break-up and which made his dumb proposal even dumber.

  His gaze drifted back to Amanda. She appeared royally pissed off. He looked away and tapped his thumb harder, wishing he could take the words and shove them back in his mouth. But now he had to let the situation play out. Who knew? Maybe she’d go along with the idea. Hell, maybe it could even work, though he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Still, after several hours of obsessing about his potential options, he still hadn’t come up with anything better. And, if he wanted to avoid his grandfather’s marital trap and still get his business started as he’d planned, he needed to figure something out; and soon. His entire future now hung in the balance.

  Amanda cleared her throat and Jake looked up.

  Judging from her narrowed eyes and the set of her jaw, she had readied for battle. He didn’t blame her. If the situation had been reversed, he would’ve thought her crazy. In an effort to avoid the tsunami of questions headed his way, he stood and turned his back. As he reached for the iron poker, his hand brushed the other tools and knocked them so forcefully, they clanged. He grabbed the poker, thrust it into the fire and stabbed aggressively at the logs. With each jab, the self-recrimination grew louder.

  It wasn’t like him to say or do stupid things. And as ideas went, this idea ranked at the top of the stupid meter. He sensed her glare, but refused to turn around and the long silence amplified the crackle pop of the logs as they—and maybe his sanity, too—reduced to ashes.

  “Wow.” Her tone seared the silence. “You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”

  He stoked the fire and tried to keep his cool. “My head’s fine.” But privately, he wondered if he’d literally gotten the sense knocked out of him when his head had smacked the window.

  “So if your little bump on the head didn’t precipitate the proposal, what did?”

  Jake set the poker back in the stand and turned to face her. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and tried to come up with words to explain the unexplainable. “It wasn’t an actual proposal. More like” —he paused and searched for the right word— “an observation.”

  Her eyes flashed, suddenly the color of a dark, stormy sea. “Oh, really.” She folded her arms and leaned back into the sofa cushions.

  He tried to ignore how hot she looked all riled up. “I proposed a business deal.” He kept his voice calm, his words pragmatic. “We’d just pretend to be engaged, we wouldn’t actually get married.”

  Her expression changed from anger to confusion. “And why would we do that?”

  He cleared his throat, hating to make himself vulnerable—especially to her. “My grandfather changed the terms of my inheritance and now I can’t access my trust until I set a wedding date.”

  She raised a brow and spoke each word with slow deliberation as she said, “Let me get this straight: you want us to pretend to be engaged so you can get access to your trust fund?”

  An array of potential responses flashed through his mind, but he decided to keep it simple. “Yes.”

  She scrunched her face like an angry toddler. “And why would I help you with your trust fund?”

  “Well I c—”

  She waved a hand and sighed. “Never mind; I’m sure I don’t want to hear the answer.” She drummed her fingers on the sofa and studied his face. “Why do you need access to your trust fund so badly? I thought you wanted to make your own way in life. If you need the money, why not just work for your grandfather?”

  He choked back a bitter laugh. He’d go to work for his grandfather about two seconds after hell froze over. “I’m starting a company to help veterans. I planned to use my trust to get the business off the ground while I look for investors.” He saw a spark of what might have been curiosity light her eyes, but it extinguished almost as quickly as it appeared.

  “Why choose me for this grand plan?” She spread her arms wide and her voice grew louder. “We broke up, remember? I do. I recall the scene with great clarity.”

  He wasn’t about to play into her drama or let her rehash their breakup, so he provided the most logical explanation he could think of. “Because if it’s you, my grandfather will believe it’s real.”